


The Stark Tower Job

by JaqofSpades



Category: Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, and the porn muse not turn over in her grave, i seemed to have written crack, may the angst gods forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy is banging her head on the desk by the time the emails stop coming.  Somewhere between midnight and 4am,  Stark Tower was infiltrated, and each of the Avengers relieved of their trademark weapons. Or stuff.  Things?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stark Tower Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvaRosier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/gifts), [Merideath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/gifts).



> Okay. I'm on medication right now and I think it's showing. That or the school holidays have driven me mad. But I did want to have a stab at Parker for avarosier, who prompted me on Darcy meeting Parker and being super impressed. And then my wonderful Typhoid Meri worships at the altar of Steve and Darcy, so I had to work that in. And people loved the idea of Veronica Mars working for the Avengers, so she barged her way in there too. So yeah. This happened.

Darcy is tiptoeing her way back from Steve's room to her own when she notices a shadow in a part of the hallway that doesn't normally do shadow.

“Huh,” she thinks, “need a new lightbulb”. But that thought process doesn't go any further, because she's fresh off six hours of ridiculously good sex and her observation skills have been working overtime thank you very much, and you know, _sleeeeeeep_.

But even her sex-sodden brain is more efficient than pretty much everyone else in the place, because she writes 'lightbulb' in the steamed-up shower cubicle and come morning, it's still front of mind. She files the request with maintenance but doesn't tell another soul, because, well. Questions as to exactly what she was doing on the Avengers level would be … not difficult, exactly, but inconvenient.

She and Steve have kept this whatever-it-is to themselves for two months now, and she doesn't feel like spilling their hand just yet. It's fun this way. Brushing up against each other in the lunch room. Wandering hands during briefings. Cataclysmic orgasms in the photocopy room. She's not losing that over a freaking _lightbulb_.

Then Steve walks into her office, closes the door, and demands his shield.

“What?”

“C'mon, sweetcheeks. I've been waiting for my naughty pictures all morning, but ...” he waggles his phone, adorably disconsolate. “No photos, and now I need it back.”

Her first thought is “damn. Why didn't I think of that?” right before “Hey!” marches in.

“I don't have your shield, baby. Really! If I did, I totally would have sent you pictures,” she says, leaning up to brush a kiss across his lips. “Really. Good. Pictures,” she groans as he opens his mouth, practically begging for her to push him back onto her desk.

And that's when her computer dings.

The email curtly informs her that Stark Tower does not employ lightbulbs for lighting. Stark Tower does not, in fact, employ any form of lighting that is high in both energy consumption and waste generation, or for that matter, require manual replacement. The entire building is lit from light tubes woven through the alcoves and powered by the main reactor.

No shadows allowed, Darcy concludes. Oops.

“Uh – I might have seen something last night ...”

“Ho! Darcy! Beloved if mischievous friend,” Thor bellows through the closed door. “I bring you coffee in exchange for Mjolnir!”

Double oops.

“Someone stole Mjolnir?” she squawks, horrified, and Thor takes that as permission to ignore the closed door. Thankfully, he is so worked up that he completely overlooks the fact she is practically climbing Steve.

“We must alert the authorities. It can only be an incursion from Asgard or one of our enemies. Someone who has unlocked the magics that bind Mjolnir to it's rightful owner.”

Suddenly the shadow is looking a whole lot more menacing in retrospect. Asgardian shadows could probably eat you or something. She's lucky to have escaped with her life.

And should probably mention …

Her computer dings again. Repeatedly.

Darcy is banging her head on the desk by the time the emails stop coming. Somewhere between midnight and 4am, Stark Tower was infiltrated, and each of the Avengers relieved of their trademark weapons. Or stuff. Things?

She's astonished they left Natasha at all, since the woman is the weapon, but no. Her little arrow necklace is missing, and neither Clint or Nat is happy about that. Tony's lost his iconic first suit, and … ye Gods. They took Bruce Banner's glasses! These are _mean_ thieves!

Except … not.

Tony is prowling up and down the conference room, approaching full on raving when the console phone buzzes. “Uh, Mr Stark, there's been a delivery.”

They even left a note.

“Sorry. There was a bet. No harm, no foul, right?”

Signed with a single initial. P.

Darcy walks around to study the note as the rest of the table erupts in a giant superhero tantrum. Idiots. Her idiots, sure. But jeez.

She gets her best investigator onto it.

“Ask Mac to try and find me a thief. Like – a superthief. The best there is. With a sense of humour.”

“Tell me you have a name.”

“Nup,” she grins, imagining Veronica just frothing on the other end of the line. “All we have is an initial. P.”

She has the name within a week, and makes sure to tuck a standard non-disclosure agreement into the fruit basket before sending it over to Leverage headquarters. Turns out, they're kind of Avengers in their own right. They just do their avenging more creatively, you could say.

Steve gets all frowny about it – “they're criminals, Darcy!” - but she doesn't tell him how to do his Captain America thing, does she? Connections are connections, and Parker's crew has skillsets coming out their ears.

And turns out? They're wicked cool, too.

_fin_

_Disclaimer: This is a transformative work (fan fiction) as protected under the fair use provisions of international copyright law. I am not profiting from this work, nor do I make any claims to, or intend any infringement on, the intellectual properties held by the rights owner._


End file.
